Reminiscing Over What?
by Syberian Quest
Summary: You want me to act like I care, but I don't. You want me to let it be known that I'm weak, but I won't. Deal with it.


I am supposed to be in agony. Brutal, merciless agony. That is what happens in an angst, isn't it? Right now, I should be deeply contemplating the meaning of life or something equally sappy and mourning about how unfair, how unjust it all is. You'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd love to see all my layers exposed, to see the very core of my being. You also assume that deep down - way down - there's something worth reminiscing over, something that I deeply regret.

Obviously, you do not know the real Ian Kabra.

I am not a sentimental fool, one who wastes his life wishing that he had lived differently, made different choices.

I've made mistakes, I know that, and I won't try to deny it. That, however, is no excuse to assume that I spend every waking hour of my day reminiscing over what could have been. Just be grateful that I even admitted my imperfections. For, at one point, I actually believed that I was perfect, or at least as perfect as any human being could be.

I was a fool.

If there is anything worth regretting, it would be my immature stupidity. I actually believed that I was cunning enough, charming enough, and even handsome enough to successfully take over the world. I may be all of those things, but I am still human – a mere mortal. And, as much as I wish that I was better than that, it is all I will ever be. Still, that is not worth grieving over. In fact, it is all the more reason to keep pushing forward. I have changed, and I now have the opportunity to prove it. Reminiscing is simply pointless. All I can do is prevent the future from imitating the past.

What other great sins of mine are worth remembering? Oh, yes – I almost killed. Several times, in fact. In my defense, I never held the smoking gun, but it is still true – I conveniently tried to "dispose" of those who stood in my way.

What a coward. I couldn't even do my own dirty work.

And then there was Korea. I know what you're thinking. "Ian Kabra, you should be ashamed of yourself! Leading a girl on before breaking her heart and leaving her to die in a cave! What a fine gentleman." What a fine gentleman, indeed. Blinded by my own aspirations, I trampled over all those who stood in my way – even Amy. In all honesty, I didn't want her to die. The hope that she would find a way out was always lingering in the back of my mind. Still, to me, she was merely a steppingstone. She and her measly brother were only one more obstacle between me and my ultimate goal. If they lived, if they died, it mattered not. Maybe I secretly wished them no harm, but whatever happened, it wasn't my place to interfere. What happened, happened.

So, are you _still _not satisfied? Do you want me to go through my entire life story before you will believe that I have no regrets? Or better yet, do you want me to admit my undying love for Amy Cahill? The very thought makes me laugh. Like that would ever happen.

Fine, then. Do I need to spell it out for you? I am content. I have no regrets. I am completely and totally happy just the way I am. Why is it _so _hard to convince others of that? If one more person gives me the "We give you our deepest sympathies" speech or the "How are you _really _doing, Ian?" question, I think that I am going to lose it. I really don't need the world's pity. In fact, I would do almost anything to avoid it. In short, I despise pity. And _again_, to make it crystal clear, I am not anguished, and I most definitely do not intend to let the world bar my soul. Even if I did, there would not be anything significant to find.

I suppose I sound rather daft, or "crazy," as the Americans would say. I am simply frustrated. Everyone is coming to their own conclusions about how I am coping with these changes that have touched my life and how I should deal with them. Well, let me set the record straight _for the last time _– I am not pining for some lost love, I am not eating myself up over my stupid mistakes, and I am _not _grieving over my shattered delusion of possessing a perfect family.

There. Simply another part of my life that people think they know everything about and feel the need to pity me in. "Oh! Your mother is in jail, and your father has abandoned you? Poor little Ian!"

I'm sick of it. Absolutely, positively sick of it. So what if I witnessed my mother being tried for murder? So what if I'm the only one left to raise my younger sister? So what if everything I once believed is a lie? What is it to me? I've dealt with it. I've moved on. What I'm _not _fine with is all the unnecessary pity. Pardon my repetition, but it seems no matter how many times I say it, people don't get it. _For crying out loud, _just let me live out my life in peace!

I'll admit this: life is harsh. I know that – I probably know it better than most. Some in my situation would spend their life wasting away, too afraid to face the future. Not me. Some would live a numbing, repetitious life, only capable of relieving their past mistakes, incapable of living in the here and now. I am not haunted by my past. I may think about it sometimes, but I don't let it control me. Some, if possessing a family like mine, would walk away from it all or try and hide. My family may be dysfunctional, but I don't let it weaken my resolve.

Most of the world wishes they had lived life differently. This is a simple fact. They wish that they could go back and redo it all over again. They wish they could have made wise decisions. They wish they hadn't hurt the person they cared about most. They wish they had appreciated their families more. The list goes on and on. Their pasts haunt them. As for me? Well… maybe I _do_ wish I had done things a _bit_ differently. Maybe if I could, I'd tweak the past a _little_ bit. I guess it _is _possible that maybe, just maybe, I do have one or two teeny, tiny regrets.

Not that I'd ever tell you that.

* * *

**A rant I wrote early on because it sickened me how almost all angst were written with Ian crying on someone's shoulder. **


End file.
